Dancing in the Dark
by Elise Maxwell 212
Summary: 16 year-old Cassie Cumming's life in the tiny town of Bluff Creek, California is turned upside down by mysterious newcomer Nate. Little does he know that she is actually a superhuman, a race of ancient monstrous beings. More coming soon. Read and enjoy!
1. 1 Outsiders

_Dancing in the Dark_

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_Elise Maxwell_

_Contents_

_Outsiders_

_Show me what you see_

_Conversations_

_Evasions_

_Date Night_

_Secrets Kept and Told_

_The Visitor_

_Listening Behind Closed Doors_

_Different?_

_Departure_

_Brothers_

_Dancing in the Dark_

_Shadow of Sleep_

_My Salvation_

_A Second Chance_

_Epilogue_

_1. Outsiders_

I was dead bored. It was only fifth period, and yet I was already reduced to staring blankly at the teacher, tracing my pencil across the table over and over again. Up, then down. Up, then down. I had probably repeated this useless movement over a million times since we had arrived in this tiny town. Bluff Creek, California. It wasn't a bad place to be, or so I guessed, but it didn't make it too high on my list.

At least I wasn't suffering alone. I turned my head just a little, catching Max's eye from the desk next to mine. He mimed yawning, and I nodded my head in agreement. Even that little bit of contact, the expression of shared boredom, made me feel better. The professor droned on, and the seconds ticked by with impossible slowness. I glanced down at my watch. We still had another twenty-five minutes to go. I sighed. It felt like I was doing that a lot lately.

I hated the sameness, of getting up and already knowing everything that was going to happen during that day, and the next, and the next. Good thing I was a junior and would soon be graduating. Only to go to a new town, a new school, and start over again. I would be glad to be done with this place, though. There was no one interesting to talk to who didn't happen to be my brother and sister. And even their company became dull after this long.

The classes failed to interest me as well, though it was more my fault than the teachers'. A high school-level history class didn't hold much allure for someone who had already lived through most of the events we studied. And I possessed enough degrees in the other subjects that there was nothing new to be learned there, either. My knowledge on every subject was superior to the teachers. So I spent my classes staring into space, tracing my pencil across the table, wishing I was anywhere but here.

In a way, I guess it was a fitting price to pay. I did time for my powers by suffering in a dusty classroom.

I was a superhuman, and with my change from human to something better, I'd acquired certain talents–immortality, incredible strength and speed, the ability to shine in the sun, eyes that glowed in the dark, unspeakable beauty, freedom from human dependencies like food and sleep. Talents I now had to do my best to hide from the unsuspecting human population, often at great personal cost. It was worth it, but only just. I couldn't help but think of the rest of our kind, not the minority that lived next to humans. They ran free; humans had no clue that they even existed. I bit my lip at the thought of endless land stretching before me, limited only by my own strength and willpower. The only sound the gentle loping footfalls, the stretch and flex of muscles, with never a break in my stride. Would it really be so bad to live like that? I couldn't imagine it would be worse than this. This was torture. And, unlike Max, I had another problem that was worse than boredom.

I could feel the wind calling to me from outside. It wanted me to join it. The beckoning wisps of air were nearly irresistible, promising the freedom I so desired. But the windows of the classroom were firmly closed–not even a breath of wind made it inside this airless space. I sighed in frustration. I could feel a storm brewing.

This isolation would be almost bearable if only we didn't have to go to school. But Yvonne insisted that we needed to blend in. I remembered the day she'd told us that. I'd thrown the coffee table at her. Let's just say I wasn't too pleased about the situation. One of the things I despised most was being normal. Or trying to be normal, I should say. When you are four hundred years old and a superhuman, there's not much you can do to blend in. I did try, despite my instincts; I tried with every fiber of my being to be average. It was really pretty ironic, a fact that I realized all too well. And it was not even within the realm of possibility. I was simply not normal. I was about as far from normal as it was possible to get. And after years had rolled by, I had come to resent the tiresome disguise. I hated trying to fit in, because for me it was sheer impossibility. I would never be a cheerleader, or a science geek, or an algebra whiz. I was just me, and there was nothing I could do to change that single significant fact. Thus I suffered from the deadly boredom that was threatening to overwhelm me.

It was bad enough that I was just barely holding on to the stream of useless noise that echoed all around. Everything was looking very breakable today, even more than usual. I snapped my pencil in two with an effortless flick of my fingers, enjoying the quiet crunch of wood. It helped. But I was still unsatisfied; I could imagine myself tearing apart this room so easily. It wouldn't take more than a few seconds at most. I could almost see the scattered papers and books, whirling into the air, flying into the sky on waves of invisible air.

That only reminded me of the very real breeze outside, its noise muffled by the glass, the wind that was calling to me still. I turned my head again and saw Max looking over at me. He frowned, the familiar ridge between his pale eyebrows deepening. He worried over me, and I knew it. I sighed again, putting all thoughts of destruction from my mind. I laid my head on the desk.

It was times like this when I wished that I could sleep. It seemed miraculous that once, in a past life, it had been possible to escape my immediate surroundings. That would be one of the best things about being human. I desperately wanted the ability to close my eyes, and wake up somewhere else. I wanted to dream. I would have done anything to end this class. I glanced down at my notebook. The pages were perfectly blank, marred only by a series of light blue lines. I tried to keep my mind that way too, letting thoughts slide past without really recognizing them. It helped. I began to feel less irritated. My hands were shaking. I curled them into fists under the desk.

It had been a while since we'd had a good storm, and I was feeling the effect of it. I needed to let out the energy I was holding in. I looked over at Max pleadingly. There was a whole dictionary of meaning in that one glance. He made a sympathetic face, tapping his pen against the desk. I was quick enough to catch the hidden meaning. Morse code was something we frequently used in class, a way to talk uninterrupted. I listened as he spelled out the thing I most wanted to hear:

_Let's go out tonight._

_The usual place? _I tapped back, my face perfectly blank.

_Yep. I'll tell Addy at lunch. How bad will it be?_

_Bad. Bring your raincoats._

_Will do._

I nodded slowly, smiling to myself. I could feel my hands tingling already, a numb prickle that reached into the tips of my fingers. It was hard to ignore the restless helpless whispering of wind outside. The clouds were gray and heavy, threatening to rain. The weight of water in the air felt like it was pulling me down. It had been slowly building up all afternoon, as the gathering clouds drew closer. It would be so good to let it rain and feel the pressure drain away…

But I couldn't, I told myself sternly. I would just have to wait. I stared at my notebook again, willing my eager anticipation to cease.

Only five more minutes were left. I could do this. I lifted my head to gaze longingly out the window, watching the wind shake the branches of trees under a low ceiling of purple clouds. Though the air couldn't reach me in here, I could read the quick flashes that it brought me. The wind told me of all it had touched, of the sights and scents outside this room. It pressed against the windows and shook the branches of ivy that covered the outer walls.

I closed my eyes and let my extra senses take over. My talents weren't limited to control over the wind. I could see the world in pictures of moving air, colors darker as the temperature lessened. It looked like infrared, except even more sensitive. The air was a mass of moving currents. The school buildings outside were dark blue, unresponsive brick, the people inside them pink with heat. At each of their centers was a pulsing red heart, brilliant, ember-like in its intensity. I fervently wished my own heart still beat. That was just one of the many things I'd given up. But this life wasn't wholly without benefits, either. Every cloud had a silver lining, however thin.

I didn't need eyes when I had this. Nothing could hide from the air itself. So that meant I could see absolutely everything. I watched the scene painted on the inside of my eyelids, a view of the school grounds and the empty forest that stretched around it…

The bell rang, and I was out of my seat before it had stopped. I pulled my canary yellow coat on, slinging my schoolbag over my shoulder as I raced outside. I was going too fast, the ground sliding like liquid under the soles of my feet, but I didn't care. When I could run faster than anything else, feel the friction like a physical pull, it was hard to keep to such a slow pace. I took deep, shaky breaths of the heavy air. I felt much better already out here.

Max followed behind me at a less conspicuous pace, and he frowned disapprovingly again as he caught up. I sighed. It was hard to walk so slowly. I could go so much faster.

The winds swirled joyously, happy to see me at last. I was bombarded with pictures of the gathering clouds, and I smelled the rain that they carried like clouds of tangible scent. The wind blew around me, showing me what it saw, what it had felt. I frowned in concentration, trying not to be overwhelmed.

"Cassie," Max murmured as we crossed the lawn to the cafeteria, "you have to walk slower. They'll see you…" his wary eyes flashed around us, subtly indicating the humans.

"I don't care. I'm sick of them," I said as quietly as possible. "I can't handle much more of this." I gestured towards the dark clouds. He nodded.

"Do you want to leave now? I can cover for you. They'll notice you're gone, but it's worth it."

I considered it. Leaving early would only draw more attention to me. And attention was dangerous. Though I desperately wished I could go now, I knew it wasn't advisable.

"No, I think I can make it until last bell," I told him. "But we have to get out of here quickly. How's Addy?" Addy was my sister, Max's girlfriend. I tried to ignore that out of habit. It wasn't something I liked to dwell on. He shook his head.

"Not much better than you, I'm afraid. It's going to be a long day." His eyes were bleak, and I sighed. Max wasn't exactly the cheery type, but even he seemed depressed today.

"Got any jokes?" I asked, half sarcastic. Max wasn't known for his humor. But I was getting desperate. "I need a distraction." But he didn't reply; he looked up through the crowd and made a face.

I sighed as I spotted Leo weaving towards us. He looked like he needed to talk about something. Max retreated a few steps behind me, out of courtesy, even though I knew he could still hear. I put my hands behind my back and stretched luxuriantly, hearing the aching groan of muscles that were used far too little for my liking. Leo arrived by my side, his jeans ripped at the knees and his light blond hair in a wild mess. If seen from a distance, he sort of reminded me of Max, but they weren't at all similar otherwise.

I liked Max (usually) and I did not care at all for Leo Lee. He was not one of the people I naturally got along with. He was one of the people whose names I had to struggle not to put an expletive in front of.

He was funny in a wry way, mostly because I was laughing at him. We were sort of becoming friends after all this time, but he could be absolutely infuriating. He had professed his undying love for me more times than I could count (which led me to believe it wasn't so very genuine, just a general acknowledgement of my attractiveness) and though I'd turned him down as kindly as I could each time, he never seemed to get the message. I'd taken increasingly harsh measures to get him off my back, and it had gotten to the point where our conversation was straight insults, one-sided. But I'd try to be civil this time, all the same. I had the sad feeling that we could've been friends for real if he would just forget his obsessive crush on me. It didn't help either of us.

"Hey, Cassie. You look good today," he said easily, winking in a way that made the rest of the girls here weak in the knees. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"When I'm looking for a compliment I'll let you know," I shot back, not at all grateful for the stares we were getting. I started walking faster. He kept pace with me.

"You really are the Ice Queen," he laughed, and I stiffened in outrage. "Pretty on the outside, but your heart is like a rock."

"If that's what you think then you shouldn't be so surprised that I won't have anything to do with you," I muttered, grinding my teeth. He shrugged.

"I didn't say it was me who thought it," he responded. "Myself, I think you have potential." The way his eyes skimmed over me left no room for doubt. "You know, you should sit with us, at the royal table." He mistook my look of blank aggravation as apprehension. In fact I was stifling murderous thoughts of wringing his neck. "It'll be fun, I promise. You could even bring your bodyguard." He gestured at Max, who smiled dangerously as he followed us like a grim ghost. Leo backed up a little.

"He doesn't like you. Neither do I. My patience is wearing thin," I said tiredly, and he laughed. I flinched as his shoulder knocked into mine. It was calculated. We both knew that. I turned on him angrily, not in the mood to be trifled with. "For the last time, I'm never going to join your little clique. It's so juvenile that you need to sit together. It's like you're scared without a pack to back you up," I snapped, thinking of his gang of sorts. A mixed bunch of girls and boys, all with the same generic good looks, they occupied the prime table in the cafeteria, crowding together. They called themselves royalty, and indeed that was what they were to this place. He looked taken aback, but then shrugged it off.

"Oh, the Ice Queen has no need for a pack," he said airily, looking down his nose at me. "You travel alone, I get it. But everyone needs someone, right?" he demanded, and I blushed with rage. "Come on. You like me," he grinned. I scowled and kept walking.

"In your dreams, slacker surfer boy."

"You want to come hear my band? We're playing tonight," he said casually. I paused. Pushy. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Your band–what are they called again?" I asked, like I could possibly forget when it was practically all he talked about. Leo and his band. I bet they weren't as good as they made themselves out to be. I refused to believe that someone like him could ever compose meaningful music, that it would be all fluff and shrieking, something to offend my ears. I wanted to see how they played without all the hype and hysterical girls.

"Scream Machine," he said. "You'll come, right?" I didn't like his overt confidence, the way he could just assume things. It really made me want to take him down a notch, just to wipe that smug smile off his face.

"No, I feel no need to hear that horrible white noise you call singing," I said in a bored tone, staring straight ahead. He looked hurt; Max snorted from fifteen feet away.

"You think you can do better?" Leo asked, and I nodded without hesitation. That was part of the whole trade for mortality. "Bring it on, Red."

"I can," I said calmly, trying my hardest not to laugh at how well I could show him. "And I'm not going anywhere with you." Leo was very cavalier. I knew girls were falling over to go out with him, and he had a disgustingly busy social life, but for some ridiculous reason he'd set his sights on me when I was clearly not interested. His logic was flawed on so many levels. Ah well, at least he had some eager freshman to keep him occupied.

I felt the first throbbing of a headache. The pressure was weighing on me, and all this aggravation wasn't helping. We reached the drab cement building that housed our cafeteria.

"You will," he said confidently, and pushed through the double doors ahead of us.

"Ever heard of ladies first?" I muttered at his retreating back.

Max growled quietly, and I looked at him in surprise. Usually I was the one with the temper, and he was the cool-headed one. But it didn't seem to be the case here. We passed by the food line without a backward glance. Our kind didn't need to eat, and human food wasn't appetizing to us.

"I hate him," he murmured as we walked towards our customary table, far off in the corner, separate from the rest. It was right by the windows.

"Yeah, he can be pretty awful sometimes," I agreed. "He reminds me of Alex." Max laughed, nodding.

Adelaide was already waiting for us. I watched her fingers tap impatiently on the table. It had been a long time since she had burned, and I could see it weighed on her almost as badly as my gift. That was her talent, lighting things on fire. I thought it matched her perfectly–she was every inch as hot-tempered as me, full of energy and funny and impatient.

"Hey, Max, Cassie," she grinned, standing up and leaning across the table so she could kiss Max.

I felt vaguely uncomfortable about that. It was awkward enough that Yvonne had ordered me to be their chaperone of sorts, to keep them from doing anything crazy, but I hated telling them to get off each other. I sat down tiredly, cradling my now aching head.

"Hey," I said quietly, leaning against the back of my chair and closing my eyes. I dropped my heavy bag on the floor, wincing as it made a loud thump. It lay next to Addy's bright purple patent leather book bag.

She was wearing a dark orange dress with far too much leather fringe that was not at all school appropriate, a belted gray trench coat, red patent leather pumps with slim silver heels. Her inky black bob was tousled around her face, and she wore dark purple lipstick that was a little bit frightening. I noticed Max was now sporting the same color; it must have rubbed off on him. It wasn't his shade at all. I'd have to warn him about that.

They talked in whispers, heads together, sensing that I wanted to be left out of the conversation. I focused on the welcome silence that the thick cafeteria walls provided. They kept the voice of the wind out. But every time someone would open the door, gusts of cold air blew in, bothering me with their chatter. I tried to concentrate on the low hum of conversation. They kept their voices considerately quiet, but I still overheard most of what they were saying. I had good ears.

"…and your class?" Max was asking in an undertone. She shrugged, probably making a face. I could just hear the soft rustle of fabric.

"That damn Leo kept asking about her," she muttered back, and I knew who she was talking about. So he'd asked after me…that was interesting. Unwelcome, but interesting. I mulled that over for a moment. He wanted me to join the royal table. He wanted me to see his band. And he put far more effort into bothering me than any of the other girls, more than was usual for him. Maybe there was more to his claims than I'd thought. I'd have to devote some time to figuring out a way to make him see the light. But I didn't have the patience or the energy for scheming now.

I looked over to Leo's table instead. He was on duty as king here, and there was something about him that was undeniably regal. I suddenly remembered he was class president, and I knew why. There was a funny aura about him.

He was eating with his customary entourage, a pretty girl with light brown hair called Camilla; his brother Robert, dark-haired with glasses, brainy; Robert's girlfriend Audrey, shy and pale with hair that was almost black; her best friend Jade; Rose Ryan, who had long golden hair and a stuck-up nose; a quiet boy called Gabriel who needed a haircut. They were all laughing, and for a moment I desperately wished I could be sitting there, included and respected, a queen among her subjects. I had an open invitation to become exactly like Leo, adored by everyone. Instead I was small-timing it over here with the two resident lovebirds, who knew me far too well to show the smallest shred of reverence. Yep, the popular table was looking pretty good right about now. But if Leo was drooling over me already, I'd only make things worse by giving in. He'd never leave me alone if I gave him even the littlest satisfaction. I didn't budge. But I did listen to what they were saying.

"She totally wants me," Leo was laughing. I caught him looking at me and grimaced. He waved cheerily in reply. My scowl deepened.

"She doesn't seem like it. And _Cassie Cumming_'s not exactly the type to hold it in. Don't you think if she felt anything, she'd have let you know before?" Audrey offered. Mmm, I liked that girl. I'd have to remember that. She was unusually kind, by human standards, not so quick to stab me in the back as the other girls. But I saw the way Robert looked at her, and I knew that she wasn't jealous of my lot like the rest. I envied her that quiet life that was forever closed to me.

I stopped listening; I didn't really want to hear Leo's reply.

"Leaving tonight for the clearing…must be getting bad for you." That was Max's voice, much lower than Addy's. She murmured assent and he laughed quietly.

"It's hard not to set Leo on fire…pain in the you-know-what…see the new guy, Nathaniel. Cute, huh? Seems nice enough," she said. I cracked open one eye.

I was curious, and understandably so. We didn't get many new students here. Who would possibly want to come to this place? Max nodded, searching through the crowd in the cafeteria, looking for the new face amongst the herd. I watched him carefully.

"I see him," he murmured, subtly shifting his eyes to the newcomer, then to me. I refused to give him the satisfaction of making me look. It was childish, but I was in a bad mood after this morning.

I wondered internally what the kid would look like. Nathaniel. What a strange name, outdated, unpopular. A name like mine. It had gone out of style long ago. Who had a name like that in a time like this?

"Cassie, look." Addy poked me. I sighed in exasperation and turned my head to stare across the crowded room, catching the eyes of the new boy.

He wore his dark brown hair cut in a careless mop, glossy fringe framing his pale white face. Two large, liquid dark eyes stared out at me. I stared back. I watched his round eyes widen further in surprise as he took me in, and frowned.

He was thinking what all the others thought, what I could see in Leo's face every time he looked at me. I knew I was beautiful to them. My heavy head of dark red hair was a rare color in humans; my sea blue eyes, my flawless snow-colored skin. I didn't pay much attention to what I looked like. At home I was just normal. My face meant nothing. Here, it made me an object of curiosity. I stood out against the flocks of plain girls and silly boys. Most people here were nothing special to look at. But he was something else.

I hated myself for thinking that he looked pretty. It wasn't that he was unappealing, but he just looked so human. There was something horribly delicate about him, all see-through skin and visible bones. I knew with a lazy flick of my wrists I could kill him, snap his fragile neck. And I knew that somewhere deep inside, he must've been aware of it. Humans were undoubtedly afraid of us, even though they didn't know the truth. Something about us told them we were dangerous. And in this case their instincts were absolutely right. Yet he was still staring at me in utter fascination, mouth open in almost comic awe.

He looked tired, by the dark purple circles under his eyes. I couldn't help but notice the depth, the warmth to his lovely eyes, the smooth pale surface of his skin, the glossy black-brown of his hair. He almost looked like one of us, too good to be true, not quite human. But I knew he was without a doubt. I heard his heart beat from the other side of the room. An easy flash of emotions across his face provided a stream of consciousness that was simplicity itself to read. First, there was surprise, then wonder, and now intense interest. I looked at him the same way, unable to stop myself. I was sure I had the same wide eyes. He was like nothing I'd ever seen. I took in all of him, everything about him.

He was uncomfortable here, I could tell. His tall frame was slumped slightly, his shoulders hunched. A pair of black sunglasses sat perched upon his messy hair. He had pushed up the sleeves of his battered black leather jacket, and I could see his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

He was surrounded by a crowd of eager girls, fawning over him and asking him questions. I knew they saw in him what they saw in me, the same instinctive beauty, good looks and tired confidence. They were bothering him, I saw as I watched. The quick flash of discomfort across his open face as his eyes shifted briefly to them was enough to tell me. But he wasn't paying them any attention. It was me he was looking at so insistently. He smiled ruefully, giving me a slight shrug as if to say _what can I do?_ There was a cautious friendliness to it.

His very presence should be abhorrent to me. But there was something intriguing about this pale stranger. He was an outsider, even to me, the outcast. His clever dark eyes made me smile. He had the look of one who knew far too much.

He tore his gaze away, turning to talk with the slim, sandy-haired girl I recognized as Camilla, and the spell was broken. She was twirling her hair around one finger, charmed and a little nervous, and he was nodding along. Obviously her offer was appealing to him. I noticed he wasn't eating anything. He got up, lugging a faded, button-covered black messenger bag, and followed her to the royal table, where they were waiting.

I hated Leo's perfect smile like it was a personal offense, like he'd beaten me to the chase. This new kid was another one destined to be royalty. Leo could spot star quality when he saw it. And this boy had it, whatever it was.

There was a certain weary grace in the set of his shoulders; he had the air of someone who had lived far too much for their age. I watched the way he shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes. There was definitely something about him, something I couldn't quite place.

Leo was grinning contagiously, but the stranger didn't seem all that enthused; he looked on with vaguely amused detachment as they cleared a space for him, right in the middle. And he took his rightful place as I watched, helpless.

I bit my lip in indecision, my fists clenching. I wanted to join them.

I sighed and let my head sink onto the table, resting on my folded arms. I couldn't. The sheltered darkness provided by my face against the table was unable to make me feel better. The cold, scratched surface didn't do a thing for my habitually frigid skin. The wintry temperature was something all superhumans had in common. The Ice Queen was all too apt a title for me.

My back tensed automatically. I could feel him looking at me again, though I couldn't see his face. I turned my head slowly to the left, towards where he sat. I could see him between the maze of tables and people. Leo was talking to him, but he wasn't really listening. His bold, hypnotic stare was disconcerting. Most people here couldn't bring themselves to look me in the eye. I chewed my bottom lip, speculating. He didn't move an inch, transfixed. A moth before a flame, I told myself. He'll lose interest soon. They all did, when they figured out they had no chance with me. Well, all except Leo. I'd gotten twelve invitations to go to prom with him already. I was still wondering when he would accept that I'd never be anything to him but a distant friend.

The new boy kept looking at me. I could feel it, even when I was facing the other way. It was uncanny how aware of him I was.

From time to time I glanced over at him, just to see if he was still looking, but he never dropped his eyes. Leo had noticed his interest in me. I heard his conspiratorial whisper from fifty feet away.

"_The_ Cassie Cumming? You've got to be kidding me. Don't waste your time, man. She's never going to fall for it."

"What do you mean?" The new boy asked bluntly. His voice was quiet, deep and strangely nice to listen to. I could hear Leo's derisive laugh like fire cutting through the air, lashing out at me.

"We don't call her 'the Ice Queen' for nothing. She doesn't date. No one here's good enough for someone like _her_, apparently." I felt a surge of intense dislike and my fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table. Leo was just bitter because I'd turned him down repeatedly.

I snuck just one last glance at the new boy. He was staring at me, his expression not at all changed. He didn't believe what they'd fed him, then. Good. Most of it was lies, anyway. But that last accusation stung. He smiled at me. There was no pity or resentment in his eyes, just the same vital interest.

I made a conscious effort to drag my eyes away from their table, turning instead to Max and Addy. I had to work hard to keep my expression remote, indifferent.

"…Alex and Yvonne," Max laughed, delivering the punchline. Addy giggled with a sound like the chiming of bells. I opened my eyes again and watched them. Her eyes flickered towards the other table and she smiled impishly.

"Looks like you've got another admirer, Cass…not bad at all, is he?" she asked me, and I smiled in reply. "He looks like a rock star. Wait, he's looking at you. Don't turn around."

I ignored her and turned back to him, annoyed. He gave me a ghostly smile, foiled, before he got up and headed for the door. I watched him turn up the collar on his jacket as the first blast of air hit him. He winked at me before he put his sunglasses on and left. Addy squeaked.

"Did you see that?"

I nodded numbly. Inexplicable.

"I have to go. Now," I said urgently. Leo was shamelessly making eyes at me from across the room now that the new boy was safely out of view. Camilla looked hurt. Max watched me with his dark blue eyes concerned, but Adelaide simply nodded, a silly grin plastered across her face.

"Go," she told me, patting me on the shoulder. I was off before she could finish, winding my way through the tables a little too fast.

I burst out the door and felt the chill air like a slap on my face. I was shivering even though I wasn't cold.

I couldn't stop thinking of what had just happened. I didn't want to like him. I wanted to hate him just like all the others. Another shiver ran through me when I thought of how everyone's face was always turned my way. I hated them for taking away my privacy, for refusing to let me blend in with the rest. But I couldn't bring myself to hate the new boy who couldn't take his eyes off me. I just couldn't.

In this town, my face was a curse. People couldn't stop staring. It was embarrassing. The girls despised me because I was the object of every boy's affection, and the boys followed me like so many abject sheep. Everyone knew who I was. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in a little of the heat, but it was no good.

I didn't stop to think; I just let my breaths slow as I walked without knowing where I was going. I didn't see anything around me. I spent the rest of my lunch hour trying to breathe. And the new boy wasn't helping at all. My cheeks felt hot every time I thought of his weary brown eyes. Every time I thought of him, the anxiety came back, like my thoughts were spinning in a circle.

He was far too interested in me. No one else was this absorbed. And I couldn't let him ever see anything more in me than this. The way his eyes looked, seeing through everything, made me cold. I'd have to find ways to avoid him, to stay outside during lunch, to make sure our paths never crossed. After a time, he'd get the message. They all did. I was a practiced expert at the art of avoiding love-struck boys. The entire male student population had a thing for me, after all. I had learned to accept it as inevitable–the love letters slipped into my locker, the awkward conversations I had to endure, the graffiti on my car. I was the one they all wanted, and they were the last thing I wanted. And the attention was even worse because of the gossip it caused, the rumors which I really didn't need. Word spread quickly in a school this small.

I finally came to the Science building, where my next class, AP Chemistry, was. I went to my empty classroom out of habit and sat on the desk, waiting until lunch period was up and the bell rang. I dug a book of Latin poetry out of the bottom of my bag and busied myself with epigrams.

I didn't move as the first few students filed in, engrossed in the thick tome. I was the only one who had a table all to myself. Ms. Lawrence had realized soon after school began that I was more knowledgeable than she was, and gave me challenge problems that would have stumped college seniors. I sat through the interminable classes with all the Punnet squares and chemical equations I liked, solving them all without thinking. It was a refuge from the rest of the day. The poor professor knew better than to check my answers; she just gave me a sympathetic smile, knowing how bored I was. She liked me, this one. And I was just a little bit fond of her, though I knew better than to get attached. She seemed kind enough compared to most humans. I smiled at her as she passed me a thick packet of genetics problems. I liked how neatly each problem resolved itself into the one correct solution. That wasn't the way life worked, but it was comforting to be able to know some things.

She was just getting ready to start class when someone rushed in. My eyes were staring down at a particularly complex problem that involved a ten-generation pedigree and three codominant traits, but I felt the rush of cool air from the door opening. It blew the hair out of my face, tugging at the sleeves of my shirt. I looked up, surprised.

It was the new boy.

He stared right at me with those wide, dark eyes, and I stared back. I couldn't help myself. The room swam in front of my eyes, swirling dizzily into an abstract of colors.

I watched him walk over to the professor, his calm, confident steps making no noise against the floor. His back was turned to me. I could barely hear his low, soft voice across the room. It was surprisingly warm and innocent at close range, kinder than I'd expected. I realized I'd booked him for the world-weary, seen-it-all type. Apparently I'd been wrong.

Ms. Lawrence smiled at him, more than a little awed, and steered him to the seat to my right. I should've realized mine was the only free table. He didn't seem distressed by the seating assignment–quite the opposite, or so it seemed. He slumped beside me, a slight smile lightening his face. I looked at him, and he looked back with the same amused glance of shared suffering.

I took out a blank sheet of paper, twirling my pencil like a baton, and class began. He watched me warily now, though a trace of awe still lingered on his face. A deer caught in the headlights of a car. It wasn't that he didn't want to look away, it was that he couldn't. I pitied him for that, but at the same time I knew it was his choice.

I hadn't realized how tall he was; he towered over me like I was a child. It just figured that things would've worked out like this. He looked down at me, frowning, and then turned back to his paper. I sighed silently. This day was getting weird.

What was I going to do? I didn't know. My thoughts swirled around in dizzy circles, scattered and disjointed. I shifted my hair over my shoulder so it made a thick dark red curtain between us, pooling over onto the black top of the table. I could just tell he was staring at it.

I sat perfectly still, eyes closed, trying not to move. This, of course, was impossible. I was far too curious to just sit there and pretend nothing was different.

I glanced over at him from time to time, eyes hidden behind the convenient spread of my hair, only to find he was already staring at me. Each time he caught me looking at him my cheeks turned bright from embarrassment. But I kept peeking to see what his face was like up close.

He had such pretty skin, perfect pale ivory, with just the faintest hint of pink. His dark eyes were the same color as chocolate. A fading bruise touched his forehead with a hint of purple, and I caught the faint traces of a black eye, almost hidden under his hair.

I amused myself for a time with wondering what he had done. Gotten in a fight, maybe, or just an accident. I sort of wanted to ask him what happened, to see if he would tell me the truth or invent something funny.

He was so different; a strange new creature in this little school. He seemed oddly exotic compared to the rest of the ordinary humans that surrounded us. I could tell he wasn't from anywhere near here.

He possessed a funny kind of fumbling grace, the way he held his shoulders, the way he scribbled untidily on his notebook, clearly bored. He was gazing longingly out the window, resting his chin on his hand. He seemed as bored as I usually was–I took that to mean he had taken this class at his old school, or he already knew the material. I wondered if I'd be getting a partner to do challenge problems with. I watched, transfixed, as he stifled a yawn with his hand. His dark eyes were ringed with pale purple circles, as well as the right sporting the darker bruises of a fading punch. He probably hadn't slept much last night, terrified of the thought of a new school. He seemed to dislike attention, but when I'd seen him with Leo, he seemed at ease, comfortable. It didn't add up.

Ms. Lawrence passed by our desk, moving on to the rest of the class, but with a slight wave of his hand he beckoned her over.

"Yes, Nathaniel?" she said, bemused. He smiled at her and I watched her face change, becoming much more kindly.

"I took this class in freshman year, Ms. Lawrence. I can show you my test scores if you want them. Do you have anything else I can do?" he asked. I watched her face take on a look of shock.

"Of course I have something, if you want it. How about some challenge problems?" He nodded, and she moved off.

I tried to hide my surprise. I didn't want to think about the odds of meeting someone who was as intelligent as me. The professor brought back a thick packet for him, and he pulled out a pen, grinning. I stared at him half the time, his dark head bent over the sheets.

I had no idea why I was so absorbed with him.

"Hi. I'm Cassie," I whispered. He stared at me, surprise lightening his eyes. I tried to smile convincingly. It came easier than I'd thought it would. He smiled back. I could feel myself turning red.

"Nate," he said quietly. That seemed to suit him much better. Long names were all too easily shortened. He looked amused, a little dazzled. I had that effect on people. But I couldn't help the genuine beaming smile. It felt good that at last I had something to smile about.

"Are you enjoying your first day?" I said quickly, before he could ask me anything. I generally tried to discourage questions about me. I kept aloof. This was the only strategy, the only defense I had. If no one knew anything about me, I was safe. So I didn't like personal questions. But more importantly, I was actually interested in what he was going to say.

He rolled his eyes meaningfully; and I grinned in mixed sympathy and satisfaction. I had been right about him.

I couldn't say any more, though I was longing to, because Ms. Lawrence was at the board, scrawling thick notes in illegible orange expo marker. This was usually one of my favorite classes, but today her voice grated on my nerves. I wiggled impatiently, tapping my fingers on the desk with lightning speed. How slowly she spoke, drawing each letter out into a torturously long monosyllable. I wanted to talk some more. That in itself was strange–I didn't usually enjoy the social life of humans, in fact I dreaded talking to them, though they were sometimes amusing.

Questions were bubbling up within me, each more pressing than the next. I couldn't hold them in for long. I decided to risk it, hoping no one was paying attention.

"Why the black eye?" I demanded. He smiled a little wider, then winced, and I realized his bottom lip was split as well.

"Got in a fight," he whispered back.I had to smile again at that.

"Over a girl?" I asked. He laughed. It was a low, warm chuckle.

"No…" he frowned. "Something else." His eyes lightened slightly, grinning despite the pain. "I saw you at lunch today." I rolled my eyes at him.

"I noticed," I said dryly. His eyes turned careful, wary but also humorous. He reached up to push his hair out of the way.

"You looked depressed. Don't go throwing yourself off a cliff or anything." He stared at me seriously, straight-faced.

"I was just bored," I responded, equally grave. He looked past me, out the windows, pursing his full lips.

"Yeah, well, it's pretty boring around here."

I hit the table, pleased. His eyes snapped back to me.

"Finally, someone who understands," I laughed. "Everyone else was born here; they love it. But you're not from California, are you?" I knew I was looking at him too much. But I couldn't help but stare back.

"Nope. I was born in The City." I knew then from the way he said it, as if it were the only city in the world, that it must be New York.

"Lucky." I scowled. "I'm stuck here until I graduate." He shot me an appraising look, carefully moving over my face.

"You don't seem like you've always lived here, either." He frowned absently. "Where are you from?"

"You mean originally?" I raised my eyebrows, and he nodded. "I'm half English, half American. But I lived in France for ten years, so I'm also from there." His frown deepened.

"Confusing," he admitted, and we both grinned. I liked how blunt he was. "You speak French, then?"

"Yes," I murmured, and his eyes lit up.

"Me too. I'm sort of a language freak, where I come from."

"Well, you have to be good at something, right? At least it's something useful." All I could do was destroy stuff, and wish I wasn't stuck in this place. He made a sarcastic face.

"Yeah, I'm planning on being an interpreter when I grow up. It's my dream." The irony was thick.

"Well, it's better than what the people around here aspire to be," I said defensively. "You should hear them–they want to be movie stars or bankers, Miss America…stuff like that. They're not really so in tune with reality."

"What do you want to be?" he gave me a funny look, burning dark eyes serious.

"I'm torn between a CIA agent and a mechanic," I said lightly. He chuckled.

"Both worthy ambitions, definitely," he agreed.

I turned back to the packet long enough to solve another problem; the class was doing an experiment now, chattering loudly enough to cover our conversation. He looked up at me through his dark eyelashes.

"But seriously, what job do you want?" I asked.

"Oh, that's easy," he said dismissively. "I'm going to be a rock star superhero millionaire."

I laughed hard. The clouds above our heads stirred in response, and I frowned, gazing out the window. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand, scrutinizing me.

"What's wrong?"

"It's going to rain." I sighed, missing the sun. It would have given me an excuse to skip class, but at the same time I didn't want to leave him. He scrunched up his face, looking annoyed.

"Does it always rain here?" I watched the perfect play of expression on his face, comically clear.

"Pretty much," I smiled.

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up guiltily.

Max was outside. Why was he here?

"Sorry," I whispered, bewildered. "I have to leave now." He nodded, frowning slightly.

"See you tomorrow."

I slid the heavy stack of sheets into my book bag before I went to the teacher's desk.

"Ms. Lawrence? I have a doctor's appointment today, and I'm supposed to leave with my brother now." I made my eyes as wide and innocent as possible, speaking quietly in my most attractive voice. It wasn't hard to get what I wanted. She gave me a motherly smile, looking fondly down at me. I was her star student, after all.

"Of course, dear. Go ahead."

I rounded the corner and folded my arms defensively over my chest, hunched against the constant touch of the wind. Max was waiting, grinning proudly.

"I sprung you, Cass. Let's go home now. Addy wants to play a little Monopoly." I rolled my eyes expressively. Addy's version of board games involved outrageous bending of the rules, drawn-on extra squares, and a running exhibition of insults. But I smiled, even though my thoughts were still back with Nate. The storm was brewing overhead, and the first drops of rain fell onto my hands. The time had come.

30


	2. 2 Show me what you see

_2. Show me what you see_

My face darkened as I walked next to Max and felt the full force of the wind. It called to me irresistibly, bringing me the scents of the coming storm. Wet fog, swishing grass, the smell of rain. My favorite smells. I clenched my teeth stubbornly. I would not give in. I would not give in.

Max wrapped an arm protectively around me as we walked wordlessly towards the car. His dark blond hair blew in the breeze, his blue eyes worried.

We reached my car quickly and I climbed behind the wheel. It was a trim, glossy dark red Porsche, expensive and showy, with perfect shining paint and an engine that could hit two hundred fifty miles an hour without a stretch. The feel of it yawning under me was like the purr of a gigantic cat.

I waited for Adelaide to come running out of her second-to-last period Physics class. Addy was pretty. Her striking purple eyes were an uncommon color among the humans; they stood out in sharp contrast against her white face. I was sure she would have gotten some admiring looks, except it was clear that she belonged with Max. And everyone was afraid of Max. He was a big guy, beautiful but tough-looking, scary even when he didn't mean to be. I knew him, probably better than anyone else, and there was nothing intimidating about him. He was very protective, though. Annoyingly so, in some cases. Even Addy admitted it, and she loved him most of all.

The two of them were perfect together. You only had to look at them together to know that they loved each other above all else. They belonged together, inseparable, forever.

She walked out slowly, her spiky black bob tousled by the wind, her graceful saunter turning into a speedy run the moment she cleared the last of the school buildings. Her hair flew out behind her, and the wind lifted the edges of her gray coat, sending the fringe of her dress floating on the breeze.

I pulled away as soon as she had hopped in. Max, sitting in the passenger seat, cranked up the music. Heavy metal shook the suspension. He hummed along, drumming on the dashboard. Addy's window was rolled down so she could stick her head out. We didn't bother with seatbelts–a car crash wouldn't even put a dent in us. And I made it a point to never crash.

I sped down the narrow road that led from the school to our house, going at almost eighty. We were also notoriously fast drivers. The thrill of speed was something you could actively pursue when you were indestructible.

The woods grew close to the road here, surrounding us with lush green leaves. This place, Bluff Creek, had been Yvonne's choice. Every decade or so, when we had to move on, a different one of us chose the new place we were going to live. We'd gone from a mansion in Rio to this tiny coastal town. But I couldn't fault Yvonne. She loved green places like this. They made her happy.

Yvonne grew things. Her dark green eyes glinted with the secret joy of slow life, and she spoke to plants in a language only they could understand. She helped them grow and in return they adored her. I vividly remembered every time we'd gone running, when the trees themselves would reach out leaves to hug her. She liked it here. I had no great love for this place myself. You couldn't see the sky for all the trees. And I loved the sky.

The new house, as I still thought of it, was around twenty minutes away from the high school. Just enough of a commute to be inconvenient. I turned off the main road and onto a well-paved drive.

Yvonne had exercised her powers here–the trees were set back from the road, surrounded by vibrant green grass and tiny pale wildflowers. Thick ferns and grass carpeted the ground in between the trees, forming a soft floor. There was not a single dead flower; everything was radiantly green and lovely. A few paper lanterns hung in strings in the highest tree branches, marking out the entrance to the road. It looked like something from a story, too impossibly fantastical to be real. The drive went on for nearly a mile and a half.

I had to admit, even if the location could have been better, the house itself was beautiful. It was three stories tall, painted a faded white. A long perfect lawn stretched down to the border of the trees, which were ancient and gigantic, like monolithic pillars of living wood. There was a garage off to the side, partially hidden by the forest. It wasn't as good as living on the ocean, where the sky was always vast and visible, but it wasn't as bad as I'd originally feared.

I parked the car inside the garage. We all got out. Max was about to keep talking, but Adelaide covered his mouth quickly. She knew there was something wrong.

"Tell me, Cassie," she complained. "You don't know how I suffered today, wondering what was up." I shook my head.

"You can just wonder some more," I laughed. We began to run. The ground seemed to melt under me as I sprinted flat-out, far ahead of the others.

We raced to the front door and into the living room, where Yvonne was perched on the couch, sketching on a pad of newsprint. A small plant with red and yellow leaves sat on the coffee table before her. Her dark brown hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her mouth was turned up in a little smile. Her eyes were half-closed in concentration. The plant held itself a little bit taller, its leaves brightening proudly. She put her work aside and watched us, her face calm.

"Hello, Cassie, Max, Adelaide," she smiled. "How was your day?"

"Fine," we all said in unintended unison. Addy began pulling me up the stairs impatiently. Yvonne's grin widened, and she returned to her drawing.

I let Addy lead me up to her room on the second floor. Max followed us out of idle curiosity. I could tell he wasn't deeply interested in the pathetic events of the day, but we usually stuck together, at home as well as at school. Old habits stayed with us no matter how we tried to let them go. Addy turned the knob quickly and pranced inside.

Her room was decorated with graceful furnishings, faded ornate antiques, which I avoided as usual. I lounged on the floor, staring resolutely at the pale blue walls. Max had drawn a maze of delicate branches and fluttering birds over the original paint. The tall windows that ran down the side of the room were curtained with blue velvet drapes.

Addy sprawled beside me, stretching out luxuriantly. Her violet eyes were intensely curious. I could tell what it was costing her to keep her questions contained.

"Cassie." Max frowned, raking a hand through his spiky hair. He leaned against the windowsill. "What is she talking about?"

"Leonard Lee wants me to join the royal table," I scowled. Max chuckled.

"Of course he does. You'd be the best in his collection, after all." he stretched lazily. "Nice insults, by the way. Real zingers–did you get them from Alex?"

I shook my head. Max grinned appreciatively, and I watched the amusement in his eyes.

"Those were all mine. I can be mean too, you know," I informed him.

"So what about the new boy? He couldn't take his eyes off you," he laughed."Definitely one of the interested ones," Addy agreed, and I made a face. How well I knew it to be true. I was torn between laughter and scorn. Addy wasn't torn at all, she was laughing hard.

"Don't laugh, this is serious." It came out a little more petulant than I'd planned. "He's in my Chemistry class. My lab partner. I don't know what to do. He's too interested…I don't know if I can get rid of him," I said, wrinkling my nose. Addy leaned forward, fascinated.

I couldn't believe I'd been so reckless. I was sure I'd feel terribly guilty about it later, but I couldn't manage the right feeling yet. I was _glad_ I'd talked to him. I kept my face pleasantly blank, refusing to let Max see how I felt. He was the most cautious of us, the most dedicated to seeming normal. He wouldn't like this at all.

"Cassie," Max said disapprovingly. "Are you sure that this is a good idea? You're pretty conspicuous already…" Adelaide cut him off, throwing a withering look in his direction.

"Don't listen to him, Cass. If he seems nice, you should get to know him better. As long as you don't give anything away, I don't see why you shouldn't be friends. You did say you have _chemistry…_" she laughed, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

I swiped at her, and she burst out laughing. "What? You said…"

I shook my head. Addy gave good advice, but she was so aggravating. I sulked quietly, stung by her assumption. The fact that I couldn't keep my mind off him didn't mean anything…did it? We he just interesting, or something more? I didn't know. She quickly relented.

"Sorry, O Great Leader. That was a bad joke," she chuckled.

"Have some respect for your elders," I mocked. I was a full one hundred-fifty years her senior, after all.

"Of course, Grandma–you want me to help you down the stairs?" she was really laughing now.

Max watched us banter, grinning indulgently. He knew better than to intervene. After a few more minutes, though, insults were flying, and we were rolling on the floor in helpless laughter. Addy started in on Max, and our combined efforts soon reduced him to a hysterical heap. It felt good to laugh again, to release the stress, and for a few lovely minutes I was able to forget the impending storm and the strange new boy. Nate.

Ө

We played Addy's version of Monopoly that afternoon to pass the time. It was much more interesting than the regular rules, I had to admit. Addy demanded she be the sports car, even though that was always me. I was the shoe instead, and consequently I lost. She hit upon twelfth base after about twenty minutes, awarded Max a worst player medal, claimed all the paper money for herself and insisted that she'd won. The one good thin about her games was that they were always over fast. She didn't have the patience for more than this. Max and I laughed, going along with it like we always did.

We didn't mind letting her play without rules, because Addy of all people needed an outlet. It was hard to stay under control when the world was smoking around you and all you had to do was let it burn.

Ө

As soon as night fell, Max ran with me and Addy into the deep woods, to a clearing where we always came to practice uninterrupted. It was far enough away from town that we had next to no chance of being seen. I stood on the top of the little hill, my hands curled into fists at my sides.

"Ready?" I asked, looking down to the base of the hill, to the tree line, where Max and Addy stood. They were both wearing raincoats. His was dark blue, and hers a vivid orange.

"Yep," they yelled back enthusiastically. This was a spectacle for them. It was pretty fantastic, though they'd probably seen it a thousand times. It never really got old.

I grinned and let my hands unclench, the clouds rolling forward at last.

They were thick, misty banks of fog, water hanging in them. The first drops of rain spilled forward onto my outstretched palms. The great weight of water was lifted off my shoulders.

And the rain came down like clockwork. Within a second, it was pouring over me, soaking through my thin green t-shirt, making my skirt stick to my legs. Addy cheered, bouncing up and down as the rain drenched her. Max smiled, applauding me.

I felt the rhythmic tick of lightning, the heavy pendulum fall of thunder in the distance. I grinned in savage satisfaction. This was what I was made to do. The storm was rolling towards me, a steady flow of wild purple clouds. It was all wires and cogs and metronomes, tiny factors that added up to the giant force.

And the rain was so thick that I couldn't see, and it was covering the grass. My shoes were wet. I kicked them off impatiently, standing barefoot, soaking. The constant cracks that followed the lightning shook through me. And the lightning lit up the sky like a strobe light. Everything moved in slow motion, each swift burst looked like day. I could feel the clouds gathering around the spot where I was, in the eye of the hurricane. Trees were whipping around, loose branches flying.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it all go free. It curled lovingly around me for a moment before heading out like a giant battleship, out to sea. The last thing I caught was the eager joy of soaring miles over the waves and never looking down, just forward. But it was no longer part of me.

I glanced down at them. They were spattered with mud, soaked to the skin. There was a twig stuck in Addy's hair. A wet leaf was slapped across Max's cheek. They didn't mind, and I grinned. The whole world was wet, steaming quietly.

Addy's smile was wide and blissful. It was her turn now. She stepped forward, chewing her lip in concentration. Addy was born the latest out of the three of us; she hadn't had as much time to work on her talent as I had. It was still somewhat unpredictable, hard for her to control. I always had to be ready to put out a fire. Luckily rain had long since become second nature to me. It had a voice all its own, just like the wind.

She took my place on the crest of the hill, looking around until she found a suitable tree. A branchless trunk sagged against another healthy one. It was covered in lichen, partially rotted. Addy smiled darkly, her eyes filled with fire, and the moss that covered it began to smolder. Thin trails of smoke rose from the wet wood, curling upwards like frail arms reaching to the darkened sky. But Addy wasn't the patient type. She gestured insistently, and the tree exploded into flames, a burst of red-orange light and heat. The resulting wave of warm air was strong enough to blow my soaking hair backwards.

I watched as her flames grew higher, nearly clearing the treetops. The center glowed white-hot, too bright to look at. It threw our features into sharp relief. We watched it burn.

The remnants of the trunk were crumbling to ashes when Addy waved towards me. I quickly wrung more rain out of the omnipresent clouds, extinguishing the fire before it could spread. The water spattered down with the collective hiss of a million little drops. The fire quickly went out, and the night closed in around us, becoming seamless in the shadows. She nodded her thanks, but her hands were shaking from the cold. There was a pile of charred remains where the proud tree had once stood.

Truly, fire was a beautiful gift, but it could only exist by feeding off another. I didn't know how it would feel to be filled of something that lived to destroy.

"From the ashes, a phoenix rises," she quoted, smiling sadly at the heap of gray dust like it had once been her friend. Max rubbed her arms. I pretended not to see when he kissed her neck.

We all began to run.

I wove through the dark trunks of the trees, easily keeping track of Max and Addy. I was out in the front, the fastest among us. Running was another thing I lived for. My slight frame was built to go faster than the others, and I enjoyed the feel of incredible speed, of the ground racing effortlessly by. My mood lightened, becoming full of the euphoria of boundless energy.

"Better?" Max asked as we sprinted through the dark woods.

"So much better," I crowed. I was glad the pressure was off. My head felt clear again.

We reached home, barreling through the front door just as Alexander was crossing the hall, knocking him over with our combined force. He growled as he got up off the floor.

"Sorry, Alex." I grinned unapologetically. I didn't really mean it.

"Next time, why don't you just roll a 747 over me? I'm sure it's less painful than being trampled." His stare was blisteringly sarcastic. I nodded seriously, considering it. Max and Addy brushed past us, heading up the stairs. Addy shot him a scathing glance. She hated him, for no reason I could understand. I mean, sure he was annoying, but it was nice to get in a little insult practice. We shared the same grudging respect of two expert ego-cripplers.

"Heard Leonard Lee asked you to the prom," he grinned. I cocked one eyebrow, giving him my best scary face. He recoiled in mock horror. "My God, what a hideous face. Hope it doesn't stick like that."

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," I teased him as he loped off down the hall and I followed.

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm going to kill him myself if you don't soon. You know how many questions about you I have to deal with already?"

"What you don't want to say is that you were hoping I'd go with _you_." I meant it in jest, but he cringed slightly. I had the suspicion I'd hit home.

"Listen, I'm going to go upstairs. Yvonne wants to show me her new plans." He rolled his eyes. I smirked. Yvonne liked to force us into critiquing her newest landscaping efforts. She had started a gardening business when we came here, and she said she could always use a fresh point of view. That meant presenting us with thick stacks of blueprints, and making us look at each of them in excruciating detail.

"You know how she is. I could be a while," he said without enthusiasm. "We'll do something later, though. If I'm not stuck there all night."

"You wanted the girl; you have to take what comes with her. It's a one-package deal." I grinned ruefully and he went upstairs.

I settled onto the sofa for another lonely night. I wasn't bitter, but I felt so alone sometimes. Didn't I deserve someone to talk to?

I stared at the television screen with unseeing eyes. And though I hated myself for it, my thoughts were on the new boy. I was wondering what he was doing, where he was. I had no idea what pulled me to him so hard, what made me see him more than anyone else. He was something special. That was all I knew. It was no use wasting my time with empty conjecture, I told myself stubbornly.

I whiled away the night watching movies with Alexander, who came back down after a few hours. I asked him how it had gone and he made a face. We didn't talk further except to critique the scenes that passed across the screen, some of them better than others. He seemed to sense that I wasn't in the mood for bantering.

Around three, though, he went back upstairs to Yvonne. And I sat, feeling empty. I found myself longing for the morning, so I could go to school. This was odd in itself; I hated school with the burning passion that comes from centuries of sheer, crushing boredom. But I was looking forward to it, and I knew why that was.

It was him.

He was new, and interesting, the only human I wanted to talk to. I was just as obsessed as he was. I realized this now, after I had been unable to stop thinking of him all this time. It seemed obvious in hindsight. As I lay curled on the couch, I wished he were here to talk to me, to keep me company. I wanted to hear his heart beating, hear him tell me new things, things I couldn't have guessed. I wanted him to tell me about himself. I wished the morning would come so I could have what I wanted.

And because I wanted it to speed up, the time seemed to pass impossibly slowly. I padded to the kitchen to check the clock at least ten times. I was so impatient I felt like screaming. But eventually the first rays of dawn crept across the sky, and I smiled in anticipation. I would see him soon.


	3. 3 Conversations

_3. Conversations_

The morning finally came, and I waited with ill-concealed impatience as the sun took its sweet time coming up. It slid over the horizon by inches, taunting my frayed nerves with its agonizing slowness. I felt the shaky joy of anticipation, knowing I was going to see him again. I had missed him, though so little time had passed. The thought was interesting and frightening at the same time.

I got dressed before it was properly light out. There were no lights on in the house but that didn't stop me. I had superb night vision. My eyes shone with the extra mirrored layer of an animal's, so I could see clearly as if it were day. My untidy room was so familiar that I would've been able to find my way anyway. I fished a swingy acid yellow dress out of the racks, pairing it with a white leather jacket and worn-out sneakers. My bag was slung over my shoulder, almost empty as I dashed for the garage.

I drove to school alone, not wanting Max and Addy to talk until I couldn't think. I was ridiculously eager to get to school, despite the rain and dry cold air. I didn't want to cause any trouble, and so I left before they were ready, speeding down the wet road at a dangerous pace. The groan of tires against the ground was surprisingly relaxing.

I arrived at school nearly an hour early, and parked near the front gate. I climbed the wall which separated the school from the parking lot, and sat precariously on the edge, leaning off periodically to check the passing cars. This feat alone, the scaling of a six foot-high brick wall, would have baffled most humans. I had simply taken a running leap, enjoying the springing reflex of my legs against the soft ground. I had to feel a dim echo of pride at that, but then my thoughts turned to the task at hand.

I kept myself utterly motionless. I didn't move other than to breathe. If not for my bright dress, I could have been part of the wall itself. The sky gradually turned from pale pink to blue, and I watched the sun rise as I searched the parking lot over and over, half bored, half interested.

Max arrived with Addy in his gray Mercedes, waving to me as they went to their first class together. He didn't have a clue as to what I was up to, and I could read the confusion on his face. It wasn't that it was odd for me to be here so early. It meant I had time to judge the weather. On a sunny day, I'd have to pull the clouds over us all, covering the sky with a thick white fog that veiled the trees.

We shone in the sunlight, not blindingly so, just a faint white glimmer that was noticeable enough to attract attention. The rain seemed a constant shade, cloud cover I could never escape from.

The wind was gentle today, teasing my loose hair and ruffling the leaves of the plants around me. It, too, seemed happy, but that was probably a product of my upbeat mood. I tended to project my emotions onto the weather, through no fault of my own. I watched the cars absently as they pulled up and normal, plain kids got out. None of them was the one I wanted. But it was a habit of mine to watch the high school and all its inhabitants. It was out of necessity that I watched everyone talking with each other, searching for a parking space, going to their first classes.

I felt oddly protective of all these people, as if I were really a superhero and they were the inhabitants of my metropolis. I was a guardian, anyway. It felt good to know that I was watching over them, keeping them safe in the event that they ever needed it.

The parking lot was filling up. I watched more carefully from where I sat.

At last he pulled up on a motorcycle, a big, hulking gray thing that looked entirely too dangerous. It had a slick, menacing gleam, downright deadly. And that made me wonder about him, about what went on in his inscrutable head.

He parked in one of the last empty spots, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder. I tore my eyes away from his face for long enough to notice he was wearing a dark red t-shirt and faded, ripped jeans. They fit him well. I froze as he looked up, his eyes immediately finding mine through the crowd. He seemed to always know where I was. I tried not to watch him as he walked towards me.

"Hello, Cassie." He smiled, tilting his head back. "I've been meaning to ask–is that short for anything?"

"Cassandra." I made a face. My name had gone out of style a while ago. But it had a certain polish to it, even though I didn't like it. It was one of those timeless names. Which was actually really fitting, ironically. "Cassandra Cumming."

His shoulders shook with laughter, and he came to lean against the wall next to me. His dark hair blew in the breeze, shining with the veiled sunlight.

"It suits you," he chuckled.

"And you?" I demanded. I still didn't know his last name.

"Nathaniel Browning." He winced.

"It's almost as bad as mine," I told him. "What class do you have now?" It might be mine, if fate was on my side. Coincidences like that were fairly common in a school this small.

"I have English. In room 4C," he replied without looking at his schedule. That was my class as well.

"Me too," I grinned, dropping my bag down before me, careful not to hit him. I slid quickly off the high wall. The impact didn't make me flinch; I could barely feel it. Tilting my head all the way backwards was painful after a while. I had to look way up at him. How could he be so tall?

We walked to class together, and I was careful to keep a distance between us, not too familiar. Even here I couldn't help but agonize over what the people around us were thinking. I asked too many questions. But the answers were so enthralling that I didn't notice. And I learned so much more about him with each word.

He liked school; he was a manic pen-clicker; he couldn't draw well at all; he was nearing six feet. I groaned at that; I was barely five feet tall, lagging far behind him already. And he was still growing. I soon found out that he wasn't in any of my other classes except Chemistry and English. My luck could stretch only so far.

I had to admit that I found him relatively baffling. He had a motorcycle, but no tattoos; he was from New York, but had no detectable accent. I couldn't get him straight, couldn't make him fit into the stereotypes of this place. He didn't seem like an athlete, except possibly a runner. He wasn't anything else, either. He didn't fit, just like me. The thought made me think for once that I might not be completely alone. The feeling was strange, new, but not wholly without intrigue.

I spent a little too much time talking to him, and didn't realize how late we were. We made it to class just in time, too full of unanswered questions to wait another second.

Our teacher Mr. Barnes was a studious, balding man with a penchant for shockingly unfortunate ties who had professed his never-ending love of Shakespeare to us at great length on the first day. He had spoken of the Bard as if he were a personal friend, not a long-dead playwright. I had a grudging fondness for Shakespeare, too, but not enough to tell the whole class so, certainly not for a full twenty minutes. Mr. Barnes had none of my reservations, but then again, he didn't have the entire male adolescent population of Bluff Creek, California, and assorted attractive superhumans chasing after him. He had stood bravely in front of his tittering audience, his moustache wiggling with every word, and recited half a book's worth of verse without a single falter. I was impressed in spite of myself. Perhaps he had been an actor in another life. I had often made myself smile by imagining the life someone like him would have. Though the rest of the class seemed to be under the impression that he slept in his desk at nights, and came out only to drone on about Macbeth, I was almost convinced he actually had a life. I hadn't found any concrete evidence of it so far, but the class kept a running pool of theories.

My money was on the thrilling if unlikely theory that he was really the Clark Kent alter ego of a superhero, disguised as a mild-mannered English teacher. I was secretly hoping he had a dark secret hidden behind the mild face and extravagant moustache. I occupied myself during the dullness with trying to guess at what it was.

Currently, he was mumbling away, his back to the class, so he didn't see us arrive late. He was wonderfully observant. It was entirely possible to get away with murder during one of his classes.

Students chatted softly, chewing gum; a few in the back were playing cards. Leo Lee was heading a game of poker. I guessed the stakes were high. He was frowning deeply. He laid down his hand–a flush–and the others groaned.

"Read 'em and weep, brothers," he whooped. Barnes paused from his lecture for a second, gave a loud, hacking cough, and returned to the pages, utterly unaware.

I chanced a quick look at him, straining to see his tie. This was another habit of mine to alleviate the dismal boredom. I winced at his tie–lime green with purple stripes.

I settled into my usual desk, trying to hide my smile. Nate took the one to my right. I busied myself taking out my copy of Macbeth, notebook and pencil. They were all a show, of course. I didn't want to waste the precious few minutes I had to interrogate him. I could have just sat there for the whole hour, not moving. My mind was racing, aching with all the things I needed to know. I leaned as far as possible across the aisle and began to whisper.

"So where did we stop yesterday?" I asked.He glanced over at me quickly. His face was serious. But there was a touch of humor in his dark eyes, and I got the feeling that he was going to play his ace.

"I don't remember. It doesn't matter, anyway.. Who were you sitting with at lunch? None of you ate anything. I can ask why, right? Or would it be…impertinent?" he grinned. My frown deepened. Nobody else had ever noticed that we didn't eat, or if they had, they hadn't dared to comment.

"It's fine. It's accurate, after all. I was surprised–I didn't think you would notice. I sat with my family. The black-haired girl is my sister, Addy, and the guy is my brother Max." I wasn't going to explain myself to him. I caught his wary glance, and blushed. It seemed almost like a warning, telling me not to say any more. But he didn't say anything about it.

"Do they have nicknames, too?"

"Addy is Adelaide. Max is short for Maximilian."

"Wow. Such long names. I see why you don't use them much." He was trying to hold his laughter in. I wished he would laugh. I wanted to hear what it sounded like again.

"It's just a coincidence." I frowned, not liking the lie. But I had to tell it all the same. I couldn't tell him the truth. Max would kill me.

"And your parents?"

"Yvonne and Alexander. We call him Alex. Don't I get to ask you a few questions?"

"Fire away." He grinned wickedly. I chose my most pressing one, the one that really baffled me.

"Why the motorcycle?"

"Don't you like it?" His grin turned dark. I covered my laugh with a pretend yawn, hoping no one noticed.

"I do, but it just seems too incongruous." It didn't fit with the image of him I'd been constructing; it belonged to a rebel, not him. But then again, perhaps he had a wild streak.

"I always wanted one. But here, I get people looking at me like I'm an alien. Or worse, like I'm actually cool." He made a face.

"You're different, that's all. They're probably just jealous." I felt funny saying it, like this was too personal, but he just smiled wearily.

"They're jealous of you, too. You should hear how they talk about you." It was funny, but he actually looked _angry_ about it. Weird. I turned away slightly so he couldn't read my face.

"I hear more than you think," I muttered. He waited for a second, frowning deeply. At last his eyes locked on mine.

"I'm not supposed to understand that, am I?" he said patiently. It wasn't really a question.

"No."

"So what's it like to live in France?" he asked.

"It's nice," I replied cautiously. I didn't want to go into it. It would only bore us both, and make me sad. I felt so old here. His eyes knew. He saw through me.

"Why'd you leave?" he asked under his breath. I shrugged, turning back to the front of the room, pretending to pay attention.

"No choice." I frowned. "It was only a few years ago, so I can still remember it pretty well."

"But you don't have an accent."

"No. I can fake one if you like, though." After so long, I could sound like I was from anywhere. It was a handy trick to get what I wanted. But I was American this time around, my voice absolutely devoid of accent, just normal. I didn't know how long it would last. "Did you have any friends in New York?" I was impolite for asking, I knew. It was none of my business. But I was curious. He scowled with mock severity.

"No. I lived alone, a crazy hermit, absolutely one-hundred percent friendless for sixteen years. Of course I had friends there." He rolled his eyes at me.

"I'm glad." I tried not to make it sound like it meant anything more.

"And what about you? Got any BFFs, Cumming?"

"No. Not here, at least. If you count people three thousand miles away, then I'm just lousy with friends," I said flatly. I didn't want him to think I was abnormal, but then again, I didn't want to lie. It was strange–I didn't usually have a problem with untruthfulness, not if it got me what I wanted.

"Why?" he studied me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The girls here don't like me. The boys here annoy me." I didn't bother smoothing things over. It was the truth, rough maybe, but accurate. I sensed he liked the truth.

"Aren't you lonely?" he frowned slightly, looking sad. I felt the same way. But I kept a poker face.

"I have my sister and my brother. I talk to them." I was glad my falsely cheerful words didn't betray anything. I was much too alone. But he didn't need to know that.

"Fair enough."

Barnes had finished writing illegible squiggles on the board while he droned, and was now talking while facing the class. His comical gestures and the uncomprehending, cow-like looks of my classmates seemed vaguely humorous. I watched his moustache twitch with each syllable, as if it was dying to jump off his face and wriggle away. I sighed. Maybe two hours a day wasn't enough to talk to him. I could always…

"Meet me outside, behind the building, after class," I whispered without looking at him head-on. He nodded. His eyes went wide, and he turned back to the front.

I stole a quick look at him. He was already looking my way. He winked. I bit the inside of my cheek.

What had I been thinking? I couldn't trust myself alone with him. I couldn't keep myself under control. What if I smashed through the wall by accident, while I was distracted? I didn't know if I could do it. I wanted to keep him safe, wanted to keep him a thousand miles away from me. I was the definition of danger. I harbored no murderous intent, but I was more fatal than the most hardened killer. I possessed devastating strength in my thin hands. Superhuman strength–the strength to lift buildings, to crush solid steel, to rip apart rocks. I was a walking danger zone. They should have put caution tape around me.

_If I were you, _I told him silently, _I'd run and never look back._

But he didn't move; he just watched absently as Mr. Barnes gesticulated a bit too wildly, lost in explaining the concept of guilt-induced sleepwalking to the more dim-witted students, and his piece of chalk flew across the room and shattered against the wall.

I frowned, biting my lip in concentration. Nate was laughing along with the rest, obviously immune to the mental tirade I was throwing at him. All my warnings were being ignored, though he smiled as he rested his chin on his hand.

It didn't matter that he was human. It didn't matter that I'd just met him. I could tell we were going to be friends, surely as I knew that the sky was blue, that it was going to rain, and that Mr. Barnes wouldn't find any chalk in the pants pocket he was desperately searching.

Nate's eyes flashed to mine, dark and shining with the million possibilities he held.

He smiled slightly. My cheeks were hot. The bell rang. Mr. Barnes let out a loud, long-suffering sigh.

I was out of the room before the ringing had stopped, but the noise continued in my ears. I felt sick. I walked slowly around the corner of the building, considering my options. My fingers laced together nervously.

I couldn't believe I was being so stupid. Away from the witnesses who unwittingly protected him, he was no longer safe. I hadn't really paused to consider that until now. If I lost it, even for a split second, there was no telling what would happen. At the same time I knew he would follow me, because he trusted me already. I had seen his faith, unhidden and unshaken. I wished he would run. But I knew he wouldn't.

I didn't have to go through with this, I told myself. I could leave, could walk away, and never look back. It would be so much healthier for him if I stood him up, if I refused to even acknowledge his existence after this. I could leave and pretend this never happened. I could go far away never to return. I'd be just a memory, smoky, insubstantial. I was already hanging on the edge of oblivion. It wouldn't be so hard to let go and disappear entirely, permanently. He would forget me after a while. He would move on, find someone else to obsess over. Yes, he'd forget I was ever here. Yes, I could leave. It would be the best thing for both of us.

But as I considered it, I knew I couldn't. Even if I left he deserved to know how much I liked this. I had to tell him.

I didn't even dare to hope that he could be capable of any feeling whatsoever where I was concerned. I couldn't ask that much. I'd be setting myself up for disappointment.

I had to be passive on this one. I would tell him how I felt and leave it up to him. If he wanted me to leave, if he knew he could never be friends with someone like me, then I would go without a moment's hesitation. If that was what he wanted then I would do it. It would make me feel better if he was the one who had a say in this, if he had a little of the power. I hated feeling like I was forcing myself upon him. I needed to go. I took a deep breath, and walked around the corner.

He was leaning against the brick wall that made up the back of the school building, the ivy that covered everything rustling around him. I watched an easy smile spread across his face. I closed my eyes and took another shaky breath. I would tell him. That was all I could do.

"Give me your hand," I ordered.

He held out his pale fingers, hesitant. I took them, and he watched me with wary eyes, unsure of what I was doing. I knew how cold my hands were and regretted it.

It felt funny, but nice, to hold his hand. It was like watching sparks in the darkness; it left an afterimage. I could feel the throb of blood in his fingers. I stored the moment away so I could consider it thoroughly later on, play it over because it was nice. But I had to get it over with.

"Why did you bring me here?" he demanded. I couldn't ignore how his hand tightened in mine, a little. I couldn't look at him. I examined the grass instead, fixing it with a steady stare.

"I like you," I managed hesitantly. It sounded like a question. I could only see brief flashes that I caught from the corners of my eyes. His were round, wide with shock. He looked momentarily stunned. His head bobbed a fraction of an inch, and he swallowed hard. It didn't look as if he had any objections.

I pulled a pen out of my pocket and hastily wrote my phone number across his palm. I wanted to hold on forever. I was worried I wouldn't be able to pull myself away. He was so warm. I'd almost forgotten what that felt like to be that way. But standing here, letting the pulse of blood heat me up, it was not hard to recall when I, too, had been gloriously, briefly alive.

I let go of his hand quickly. He flexed his fingers, wiggling them.

"Sorry," I murmured. He nodded absently, slowly opening his hand and gazing at the ten digits I'd written there.

I smiled and turned to leave. He had a choice now. He could call me–and we both knew what that meant–or he could pretend this never happened. It was up to him. This was probably the stupidest, most reckless thing I'd ever done. I could find this number all over the school tomorrow. And my faith would be lost. But no, I didn't believe that. If he trusted me, I had to try to reciprocate.

All right, I would trust him. It was stupid of me not to, but centuries of being betrayed had taught me to be reserved. I'd learned the hard way not to take anyone at their word, not when it was so easily false. But him, different from all the rest, perfect and transparently honest–I could believe in him.

He would keep this to himself. I hoped. I would regret it later. I would doubt him and every word he'd ever said. But I couldn't right now.

"Don't you want mine?" he called after me. I looked over my shoulder at him, my hair blowing in the breeze. He stared again, blank and unashamed. Our eyes met decisively, locking onto a straight line. I could see him marveling. It made little sparks well up in me, hot bubbles of light. It felt good to be admired, in a way I couldn't fathom. For once it was okay if he looked. I wanted him to stare like I was some incredible miracle.

"No. You can call me, or not. It's up to you." I walked quickly away, not stopping this time. I smiled and knew he wouldn't see.

Ө

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I didn't say a word to Max and Addy at lunch. I leaned my head over the back of the seat and closed my eyes. I could tell by the all-too-familiar tones of their voices that they were worried. Even I wasn't usually this silent, this preoccupied. I usually made some attempt at conversation, however feeble.

But it was Nate. I knew he was looking at me again. Differently from yesterday. I could feel his magnetic stare even when I couldn't see him. I didn't open my eyes–I knew if I looked even once I wouldn't be able to help myself. I was just barely keeping hold. My head ached and my cheeks were burning hot.

I rose slowly just before class started, walking all the way there without really seeing anything. It was only when I sank weakly onto my seat next to him that I opened my eyes and really looked. I couldn't put it off any longer.

He was already there, his pale face turned towards me. He was grinning that same crooked, slightly superior smile. It was charming somehow.

He would call, I knew.

We didn't try to say anything. We just waited together for the school day to end. The feeling of keeping a secret hung all around us. I enjoyed every second I spent sitting beside him. We both worked at our problems, spending half the time staring off into space. The class felt like it had ended minutes after it began.

I hurried to the car, skipping my last class a second time. Yvonne would scold me but I didn't mind. It wasn't like I would learn anything new. I had more urgent matters at hand.

I drove home a little too fast, winding down the road with the scream of tires around the curves. I was eager to get back and see if he had called. I knew logically that he was still in school; that he couldn't call during class, but I still had the same irrational hope that he had. My rational side was gone, replaced by some dizzy optimism I hadn't known I possessed. I was setting myself up to be disappointed, I knew, but I couldn't stop hoping. I wanted to know for certain. I wanted to know he felt the same.

I was happy about him, of course, but the other half of this new desperation was awful. I could no more escape it than I could escape the weather. It was pressing on me, this urge to keep in his company. I wanted to spend all my time with him. I was beginning to realize that I couldn't. I had had four hundred years to do whatever I wanted, without anyone tying me down. But I couldn't bring myself to leave him, and I was worried that it would always be this way. I had gotten used to seeing humans as stupid, weak creatures, and yet this pale boy had me counting the seconds until I saw him again. I was bewildered by his unwitting control, like gravity.

Before, I'd always had the upper hand. Here, it couldn't be less true. He was unpredictable, and didn't behave in the ways I had thought people like him were supposed to. I felt strange around him. On edge, almost nervous and surprisingly insecure. I'd never had the sensation of worrying I wasn't good enough before. And he didn't seem like the rest, didn't drool over me or treat me as an object. To him, I was a person, a girl maybe, a possibility, but that didn't affect how he treated me. I was his equal. I was so used to being patronized and having to beat respect into people. This change was welcome.

I was beautiful, I knew. By their standards I was far and above the best. Every boy of our kind thought so. Benjamin, Dmitri, Chester, Damian…the list went on and on. I had seen the way humans at school looked at me. They would walk past, and do a double take as they got a better look. I was used to watching their eyes grow round as they looked at me. So I supposed I was appealing to them as well. But I didn't know what to do to hold my own against Nate.

I wanted to tell him the truth, because that was the one thing that would really make us equal. I knew he should know. But though I could deal with injury, with dying, I was a coward when it came to this. I was afraid to tell him, afraid that the truth would give him the right warning this time, one that would make him leave. And that would destroy all my chances before I even knew fully what they were.

There was also the added issue of the scientific differences between us. Where I was strong, quick, invincible, he was delicate, weak…mortal. And I didn't know how to change that. He didn't know about me. He didn't know what I was, what I could do. He was still under the impression that I was human, which was perfectly ludicrous. I was bad at pretending to be human. I didn't deny that. I didn't look like one, I didn't speak like one. I didn't act like one. I didn't know how much longer this pitiful charade was going to last, either. Surely he would put two and two together at some point, and realize that they didn't make five as I'd told him they did. I couldn't believe he would swallow my lies so willingly. He had to be smarter than that.

I hoped he was, though I knew that when he found the answer it would be the end. I wanted him to know the truth even if it meant he wouldn't want to see me again. We would be on equal terms then. Each would have power over the other. Mutually assured destruction, certain as any nuclear apocalypse. I could kill him, and he could tell my secret, thereby killing me as well. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. But I valued justice and fairness, and I thought he did as well. He deserved a weapon, a last-ditch safeguard, as much as I did.

I pulled up outside the house, not stopping to greet Yvonne as usual. I could hear her out in the garden, muttering something under her breath. I dashed upstairs, my muscles so tight with nervous anticipation that I thought I would snap. I raced to my room and locked the door before I let myself look at my phone. The silence was stretched thin, waiting anxiously. There were no new calls. I bit my lip. He would call. He had to.

As if he could read my mind, the phone rang. An unknown number flashed across the screen. I sighed in relief. It was either a prank call from someone at school, or it was him.

"Hello?"

"Cassie." It was him. _He called. He liked me._ I did a silent victory sign, clenched fist pounding the air, facing the windows and staring out into the forest.

"Hi, Nate. You called," I said lamely. What now? What was I supposed to say in a situation like this, anyway?

"Yes," he laughed. But there was a quiet, curious undertone to it. He was guessing again, shooting in the dark. "Is there a reason why I wouldn't?"

"No…" I trailed off. There was a very good reason, but I wasn't going to clue him in if I could help it. No need to feed him hints when he had so much of the puzzle already.

"And what was that about, after English?" he demanded, not really sounding angry, just curious.

"I…wanted you to have a choice." I didn't think he'd understand, but it felt better to tell him the truth. It didn't matter in this case. He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was pensive.

"You do know that doesn't make any sense at all," he laughed humorlessly.

"Yep." It wasn't my job to make sense. I just had to barrel through and hope he understood a small percentage of it. Enough to hang on and wait for more.

"You don't want to tell me why, do you?" He didn't sound surprised.

I blew my hair out of my eyes. But I still had to smile at the power of it. It had all the author's skill to it, spinning my convoluted plotlines with sadistic joy, revealing just what I chose, what I liked him to know. I rarely got the chance to be mysterious or elusive. I was drinking this feeling in. I loved it.

"Not just yet. So why did you call, anyway?"

"Would you like to…maybe…go out? A week from Saturday would be good…" I could hear his smile in his voice like he was next to me. My stomach flipped nervously.

_Yes. Yes yesyesyes, a million times._

"Yes. I would. I'll come pick you up. What time?" I said quickly, not giving myself time to doubt whether this was a good idea. He couldn't come here. And I had to see him again. Away from school and prying eyes, we could really talk. We wouldn't have to whisper, to pass notes, snatch quick conversation between classes. I wanted this badly. Now it had become a possibility there was no other option.

"Don't you want me to pick you up? I wanted to show you my bike."

"Now isn't really the best time to come over," I lied carefully, crossing my fingers. "They're redoing the driveway. So I'll drive over, and then you can take me wherever you want. Where do you live?" I couldn't believe this was happening.

"I live at 126 Bay Street. Know where that is?" It was a short road, I remembered; it led from an isolated island. I knew every winding vein of traffic in this tiny town.

It was beautiful there. You could see the sky at night, and the ocean was close by, right up against the road. It figured that he'd live somewhere so nice.

"Yep–I'll see you at six?" I offered off the top of my head.

"Six sounds good." There was a certain magic to those words. They sealed the deal. I was going to see him again. "Listen," he murmured quietly, and I loved the way his voice turned secretive. I'd forgotten what a lovely voice he had–rough and smoky, slightly hoarse. It murmured out of the headset in low echoes. It made me think of chocolate. "Are you alone?" I swallowed hard. The low purr was scarily nice to hear.

"Yes." I said it hesitantly, wondering why he needed to know.

"Then we can talk." I heard his grin on the other end. It was warm, somehow.

"Okay. You still have more questions," I guessed, turning red. I didn't like questions, and he seemed to have a lot of them. But I couldn't really hate answering them, either.

"A lot more," he laughed. It had a nice ring to it. It was velvety, a low hoarse chuckle.

"Fine. Go ahead." He paused for a second. I heard his intake of breath.

"Why don't you have any friends?"

"I told you, I have friends," I said immediately. A resonant sigh echoed out of the phone.

"Your family doesn't count," he told me patiently.

"Then you already know why. You saw the boys here. If they were actually capable of coherent conversation while I was with them, then we'd probably get along really well. However, that doesn't seem to be the case," I said tiredly. He laughed.

"True…do people just spontaneously turn into idiots when they're around you?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Pretty much."

"Fun." We both knew it wasn't.

"It gets boring after a while." After four hundred years, I hated people looking at me and drooling. Physical attraction wasn't the basis of a relationship, not my kind, anyway. I wanted someone who was unimpressed by that sort of thing.

"I guess it would." He sounded sympathetic.

"But you don't seem to be the same," I recalled, puzzled.

"I have better verbal skills."

"That must be it," I laughed. "Do I get to ask a question now?" He heaved a sigh.

"If you must."

"Why did you leave, anyway?" New York seemed pretty good. He seemed evasive, pausing a long time before answering.

"I didn't like my life there, didn't like…the place…I was in. So I sent myself here, to live with my dad." He sounded vaguely regretful.

"Oh…cool," I replied. Someone shouted on his end.

"Hey, I gotta go." He sounded sad. I grinned wistfully.

"All right. I'll see you soon, I guess." One way or another.

"Night, see you tomorrow." I could tell he was grinning as hugely as I was. I hung up and stared out the window.

I was going out. With the new boy. Who I'd known for two days. They'd crucify me for this.

Ө

I passed the long night in a state of nervous anxiety. I was going to sneak out. Max didn't know. I was sure the results would be dire.

Max thought I was his unworldly little sister. It didn't matter to him that I was a century older, that I had rescued him from the very gates of death, after his series of incredibly stupid choices, no less. He loved me, and he tried to protect me as best as he could. It didn't matter if the threats were real or a result of overprotective paranoia. He kept me safe even when there was no reason.

Sometimes I accepted his help with something less than good grace. I knew I could take care of myself. I was tougher than people assumed. But I usually humored him anyway. Most of the time.

Max, of all of us, was the most cautious about the humans. He tried his hardest to appear like them, though I had patiently explained to him how futile his efforts were. There was no way we were ever going to be totally normal. Why even bother trying? It was a sad waste of time, but I didn't really expect him to give up. That wasn't Max. He was determined to the very end. I couldn't blame him for that. I could understand, at least, what he was going through, how his memories tortured him. I felt the same way so often. The past was something that would not be forgotten.

But he would feel terrible if he knew what I was doing, becoming friends with one of them. He'd never been completely able to forgive them. He would feel hurt, angry, betrayed. I couldn't wish feelings like that upon anyone, especially not my favorite brother. He'd die if he knew. So I wasn't going to tell him.

I lay back, and the day turned to night as I pondered how I was going to do this.


End file.
